Peace from Pieces
by Mindy35
Summary: CASKETT. Post-ep for "Kill Shot". Beckett shares the reality of her scars with Castle.


Title: Peace from Pieces

Author: mindy35

Rating: T, adult themes, incidental nudity

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money made.

Spoilers: thru to "Kill Shot"

Pairing: Castle/Beckett

Summary: Post-ep for "Kill Shot". Beckett shares the reality of her scars with Castle.

-x-x-x-x-

She was flushed when he opened the door to her, breathing like she'd sprinted up the three flights of stairs to his apartment instead of taking the elegant, expansive elevator. Her hair looked windblown and her green eyes sparkled with something wild and impetuous as she puffed at him a hasty:

"Hey."

"Hey." Castle eyed her curiously, waved a welcoming hand. "You wanna co—"

Beckett was already marching inside. "Yeah. I do." She halted just inside the door, turning to him, her motorcycle helmet tucked under one arm. "You alone?"

"Completely," he said, spreading his hands, one gripping the book he'd been falling asleep and drooling on. "My mother and Alexis have g—"

"Good," she nodded. "Come with me." And with that, she made for his bedroom, pushing through the slightly ajar door and striding inside without any sense of hesitation at all.

"Oookaaay…" Castle swung the front door shut, threw his book towards the couch and obeyed her command.

When he entered the bedroom, the shiny black helmet had been tossed onto a chair in the far corner and Beckett had her back to him. She was turning in a slow circle, surveying his bedroom with her piercingly precise investigator's eye.

"Are you drunk?" he asked her, noting the hint of alcohol she'd left in her wake, mingling with her distinctive Beckett scent.

"I've been drinking," she replied, abruptly ceasing her scrutiny and turning to him, "I'm not drunk." She slipped out of her leather jacket, threw it on the chair with her helmet. "Although after I do this I might need to be."

Castle looked her up and down, brows crumpled. "Do…what…exactly?"

Her mouth quirked up in one corner as she stripped off her scarf as well. "Not what you're thinking, Castle."

"Hey, you're the one that barged in and started disrobing in my bedroom," he pointed out, a barely there tremble in his voice. "Can't really blame a guy for getting his hopes up…" Averting his gaze from the unexpected vision of Kate Beckett inhabiting in his most private space, he headed for the bedside and switched on a lamp, making the room glow a warm gold.

"I just need you to look at something," she told him, moving on to the buttons on her shirt. "Something I haven't shown anyone. Okay?"

"Okay…" He bobbed his head, watching her cautiously from across the room. She seemed to lose patience with the fiddly buttons because an instant later, her hands dropped, pulling the shirt up from the hem and over her head. "_Whoa—!_" Even with his quip about her disrobing and some indication, however unbelievable, of where she might be heading – he really wasn't expecting that. Castle spun round, putting his back to her and squeezing his eyes shut for good measure.

Behind him, Beckett's voice was calm and rational. "Castle, what're you doin'?"

"Turning around!"

"Why?"

"Self-preservation instinct, I imagine." He opened an eye and peered over his shoulder, though not far enough to see anything. "_Why're you_ taking off your clothes?"

"My therapist said I need to make peace with my scars."

"So he told you to come over here and take your top off without so much as warning a guy?"

"No," she replied, drawing in a breath then letting it out. "This was my idea. Sometimes, I just prefer a direct approach."

"Direct is one way of putting it," he muttered, wiping a sweaty palm down the front of his shirt.

Beckett was silent. Then she said, "Face me, Castle."

Castle cleared his throat, began to turn round. "If you insist..."

"I do." She tipped up her chin as he shuffled to face her, her eyes glittering with determination. "Now. Take a close look."

"What am I meant to be looking at?" he asked, gaze staunchly refusing to venture below her neck to her bared torso and plain black bra.

"Not my face," she muttered, her tone dry. She looked down at herself, pointing between her breasts at the round, red scar from where she'd taken a bullet to her heart. "Take a look at this." Next, she pointed to the slash in her side where they'd accessed her heart to make it beat again. "And this." She lifted her head, looked at him from beneath her brows. "See those?"

Castle gave a grave nod. "I see them."

Beckett licked her lips, her head bobbing very slightly. "I've got more where they came from too. These are just the most recent ones. Now – answer me this." She straightened in front of him, pinned his eyes with her tiger-like gaze. "You ever think about my body, Castle? You ever fantasize about getting me naked?"

His eyes dropped away. "Kate…"

She took a step towards him. "It's a simple question, Rick. And I'm asking it so it's unlikely I will be shocked or offended by the answer."

"In that case…" he shuffled on the spot, ran a hand over his hair, "I guess the answer would have to be…it would be a yes." He squirmed in his clothes but looked up, looked straight at her. "I've thought about it. I've…fanaticized about…being with you."

She held his gaze, her eyes narrowing. "And did I look anything like this in your fantasy?" Pointing to the scar on her chest, she took another step towards him, her voice becoming more severe, more strained. "Because this is the reality, Castle, this is who I am."

Castle frowned at her, shaking his head. "That's not who you are. It's one terrible thing that happened to you. One terrible thing you _survived_."

"No, Castle." She shook her head in return, slow and definite, the color rising in her cheeks as she insisted, "I'm…tragedy. And loss. And violence. I am incomplete, I'm damaged."

"Aren't we all?" he asked, voice low and muddled. "To some degree. I mean, all of us have our scars."

She gave a rueful smile, her eyes flicking down then back to him. "You don't."

"Are you _kidding me_?" he answered, expression incredulous as he stepped towards her. "A question mark for a father and a critical, overbearing mother? Not to mention two failed marriages? One to a woman who cheated on me, not once but three times, before leaving me in the dirt; the other to a woman who could barely stand to look at me by the end, let alone touch me."

Beckett looked at her feet, her mouth set in a grim line. "It's not the same thing."

"I know it's not." He fell back, releasing a breath. He felt like reaching out and touching her shoulder, arm, hand but resisted due to her nakedness. "Mine are not heroic wounds by any stretch of the imagination. But no one escapes life unscathed. Everyone on this planet knows what it is to hurt." He dipped his head to catch her gaze and succeeded in drawing her eyes up to his. "The reason you hurt more, the reason you have these scars is because you're braver than most. You look at these scars," his hand drifted towards the gash in her side, pointing at it without getting too close, "and see tragedy and damage. When I look at them…I see bravery, resilience, strength. I see a woman with incredible heart. And a commitment we should all show to those we love."

Her eyes closed over briefly, her voice sounding resigned when she replied, "_I know_ that's what you see, Castle, because that's what you wanna see. Because it makes for a better story. But maybe…" her arms spread then sagged again, "maybe this is all I am, all I'll ever be. Maybe what you see is what you get."

"Oh no. No-no." Castle shook his head emphatically, the edge of his mouth curving upwards with affection. "I've been shadowing you for four years now and if there's one thing I've learnt, it's that you are not that simple. To only look skin-deep is to underestimate you and I _never_ make that mistake." He let his gaze wander down her battered torso, let his voice soften in a way that neither of them often allowed. "Your scars are fresh, Kate, they're still healing. And they're more visible than most people's. But that doesn't mean they _won't_ heal, it doesn't mean they are all you are or all you're capable of becoming."

"And what if that's exactly what they mean?" she replied, the words tumbling from her mouth like a long-withheld worst fear. She raised a hand to her face as if to banish the tears that were swelling in her eyes against her will. They did not fall, she refused to let them. "What if…I _wanna_ be more and can't? What if I mess this up, Castle, what if I let you down? What if I fall apart again and again and again?"

"Then we'll put the pieces back together again and again and again," he insisted, his voice quiet but compellingly sure. "As many times as we need to, as any times as it takes."

She smiled sadly at him. "It's not your responsibility to do that."

Castle hesitated, pulling back a bit. "It could be," he said after a short pause. "If you wanted, if you'd let it be. I don't think I've made much of a secret of what I want when it comes to you."

Beckett studied him a moment before her eyes drifted down and away. "You sure you want me?" she murmured, her voice subdued and chest falling heavily with each breath. "You sure you want…" she waved a hand at her wounds, "this?"

Castle gave a half-smile she didn't see. "I'm sure." His finger gave her chin the slightest little nudge, making her look up. "Ask me a hundred times more and I'll give the same answer."

Beckett just stared at him, brows creased. "_Why_?"

His smile faltered but eyes remained fixed on hers. "You still haven't figured it out?"

"I…" Her lips relaxed into a small smile. "Maybe _I_ just haven't learnt not to underestimate you."

"Maybe not…" he mused, voice rumbling warmly in his chest.

Still smiling, she ducked her head, moving towards his big bed and taking a seat. "D'you want to know, Castle, what I thought when I first met you? Or…what I felt, rather."

"I do." He turned to face her. "Tell me."

"Scared." She shrugged her shoulders, her hands wedged between her thighs. "You scared the life outta me."

Castle hesitated before heading towards her, taking a seat beside her. "Because you were drawn irresistibly to my roguish charm and devastating good looks?"

"Exactly." She gave her usual eyeroll before moving onto the point. "_And_…because I saw your persistence, your hunger for the truth. Your gift for putting together the puzzle pieces, solving the mystery, making the story make sense. I think I was scared of you…finding me out."

"Finding you out?"

"You thought I was so special, so extraordinary," she muttered, her head wagging and her voice growing distant. "And part of me enjoyed that, I admit it. But another part of me…another part—" she gnawed on her lip, forced herself to confess: "lived in fear of you figuring out just how ordinary I am. How fallible."

Castle adjusted his seat on the bed, making himself more comfy. "Well, that's one of the more ridiculous things you've said this evening. Or ever. Just because you're human, that doesn't make you less extraordinary. Quite the opposite, in my opinion."

Beckett chuckled mordantly, one hand swiping over her forehead before she looked across at him. "Castle, when are you going to realize that I'm not the heroine of your imagination? I'm not some indomitable tower of strength. I'm not muse material. I never was. And I'm certainly not whoever you thought I was way back then, not now."

"Of course not," he was quick to insist, "You're more." He shifted to face her, knees bumping hers and eyes pinning hers. "Listen. Kate. I'm not operating under any grand illusion about who you are. As much as you may wish to deny it sometimes, I _know_ you. All of you. The good, the bad. And the ugly."

Beckett seemed to frown and smile simultaneously. "Thank you, Castle, that was exactly what I needed to hear."

Castle pressed a few fingers to his mouth. "That…came out wrong…"

She rolled her eyes, made to get up. "Think I'll be putting my shirt back on now."

"Wait." He stopped her with a hand on her thigh.

"Wait, what…?" She settled back on the bed, eyes wide and questioning. "Was there more to that touching little speech?"

"Yes," he answered hastily before his voice retreated again, "Well…no, that about covered it. But if you gimme a minute I might be able to come up with more."

Beckett conceded, eyebrows climbing upwards as he attempted to do just that. But when his silence persisted, she gave a nod, concluding, "You've got nothin'."

"It _is _a bit distracting, you sitting there."

"I'm not doing a thing."

"But you're _there. _You're just," he gestured at her half-naked form perched on his bed, "…_there_."

"Not anymore." She got to her feet, stifling a self-conscious smile. "I think we're about done."

"So maybe I didn't have anything more," he mumbled, eyes tracking her as she headed for her discarded clothes. "Maybe I just didn't want you putting your shirt back on. Not…not just yet."

"Well, I think I've made the point I came to make. And you've certainly seen all there is to see." She turned at the chair, brandishing a pre-emptive finger at his half-open mouth. "And if you make a crack about that, Castle, I will hurt you so bad you'll be walking funny for a week."

Castle's eyes widened in innocence while his voice softened with affection. "I was just going to say…thank you. For showing me. Thank you for trusting me."

Beckett sent him a small sidelong smile then picked up her shirt and began undoing the buttons she'd been too impatient to deal with. "The doctors told me that they'll always be there," she told him, eyes lowered to the shirt. "The scars may fade over time but I'll probably always have them." Once finished, she slid the shirt on and looked over at him. "In case you were wondering."

"I wasn't," he said, rising from the bed. "But, either way…if I may say so – and I don't think I'd forgive myself if I didn't, you are…" he waved a hand at her as she started to button up and he started to babble, "somethin' else. Stunning comes to mind. As well as a lot of other adjectives I could list. But that could go on all night. And none of them would quite do you justice. Not from what I've seen. Breathtaking comes the closest and I mean that literally. As in: breath be gone—" He broke off as the scar covering her heart disappeared from view. "I…I just thought I'd offer that in case you were operating under any false illusions yourself."

Her gaze faltered only slightly. "Well, if I was, I'm not now."

"Good. That's good." There was a short silence before he gestured to the much more innocuous territory of his office. "So, can I offer you that drink before you go?"

Beckett buttoned her shirt right up to the neck then reached for her jacket and scarf. "It's late, Castle, I should go—"

"You should stay," he interrupted with a gentle smile. "You should _definitely_ stay. For a little while at least. Come on. One drink. I'll even break out the good stuff. I think we both need it."

Her head shook. "I…I shouldn't. I need to ride home."

"_Or_ – you could stay," he murmured lightly. "By which I mean, in the guest room upstairs. I'm sure my mother will be home soon and happy to chaperone."

"Castle—"

"Failing that though, if you happen to pass out due to either the strength of my scotch or the less than scintillating conversation then I faithfully promise to haul your unconscious body into the first available cab. And tip enough that the cabbie will wake you."

"Wow. Such chivalry."

"All part of the service."

Beckett considered a moment, eyes running over his face. Then she dropped her jacket and scarf. "Alright, alright. You've twisted my arm."

"I never would. It's a lovely arm. It's the arm of my dreams." He cocked his elbow at her. "May I escort it into the next room?"

She let out a deep sigh as she slipped her arm through his. "Lead the way, Mr Castle."

They headed into the adjacent room arm-in-arm. And as they did, Beckett let her head drop to his shoulder just long enough for Castle to plant a kiss on her hairline. Both gestures were fleeting. Neither were verbally acknowledged or needed to be. A second later, her head had righted itself and his mouth was extoling the virtues of his latest discovery in strong, hard, heady scotch. Her arm fell from his as he went to fix their drinks. While waiting, she wandered to one of the bookshelves, absently running her fingertips along the spines of his books. Then he was back by her side, two glasses in hand.

They clinked, smiled at each other and drank.

_END. _


End file.
